


Voltron: The Musical!

by leftishark, stardropdream



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternative Universe - Musical Theater, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Shiro (Voltron) Has a Loving Family, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24634150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftishark/pseuds/leftishark, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: The only thing more chaotic than musical theater is musical theater when you’re crushing on your co-star.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 47
Kudos: 232





	Voltron: The Musical!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ailurea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ailurea/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Sarah! You are a wonderful friend and person, and you do so much behind the scenes for the fandom. Here is a small token of our love. We had a lot of fun co-writing a fic based on your love of musical theater. Neither of us has much experience performing in musicals, but we did our best! 
> 
> Special prize (our eternal love) to anyone who can spot all the easter eggs to Sarah’s fics :D

Seeing Keith’s name on the cast list for _Voltron: The Musical!_ did not prepare Shiro for seeing him in person. 

Shiro still thinks of the summer camp they met at as one of the best times of his life—the kind of life-changing that convinces a guy to pursue a career in theater. Since learning that Keith would be playing the leading role of Akira opposite his Jiro, he’s imagined countless versions of a heartfelt reunion with his old friend, the one who taught him vibrato and self-confidence and how to play an F major 7 on the ukulele.

In retrospect, though, he realizes that his mental image of Keith is about ten years out of date. Back then, both of them were scrawny high schoolers whose voices were still squeaking into new lower registers. 

Keith is no longer scrawny; he’s grown gracefully muscular, and his voice is rich and sure as he flips through the pages of his highlighted script at the initial all-cast read-through. Shiro might spend most of the chorus parts when he’s not singing or speaking staring at Keith though he’s trying not to, memorizing all the ways he’s changed and the ways he’s stayed the same. He likes to think he’s being pretty subtle about it, but he did admittedly miss one cue midway through scene three and Keith’s glance his way definitely made his heart stop just a little. 

“Keith!” he calls out when Coran signals the end of the day, nearly tripping over his feet in a rush to reach Keith before he leaves. “It’s so good to see you!”

“Shiro,” Keith says warmly. After a slight hesitation he opens his arms to invite Shiro into a hug. Shiro doesn’t hesitate to sweep him into his arms, hugging him back and marveling at how different it feels now to hold him like this. 

Shiro wants to say something charming, something witty and cool, something that will make Keith laugh. What he manages is an obvious, “You look great.”

Keith’s hand thumps Shiro on the back. He chuckles, but maybe not because Shiro’s particularly funny. The sound of it is exactly as Shiro remembers, although he doesn’t remember melting like this back in summer camp.

“Yeah, hah, thanks,” Keith says. He pulls back to hold Shiro at arm’s length, gaze flickering down and back up. “So do you.” 

Shiro blames the studio’s big overhead lights for the way his cheeks warm. He grins and he’s sure it looks more goofy than suave. But then again, it’s Keith, and he never had to be performative with him. That much seems to be the same, if the way Keith’s mouth tilts up into an answering lopsided smile is any indication. 

“Heading out?” Shiro asks, nodding towards the double-doors outside. It’s a stupid thing to say, really, since that was the direction Keith was heading in before Shiro called to him. 

But Keith just shrugs, easy and sure. “Yeah. You?” 

“Yeah,” Shiro says and leads the way outside into the crisp spring evening. It’s easy to fall into small talk as they wander over towards the bike rack, trying to cram in as much inane discussion as he can in the short few steps. 

“I’ve been studying Galran theater,” Keith explains when Shiro asks what he’s been up to. “Marmoran, for the most part, plus some Daibaazalan opera on the side.”

“Wow!” Shiro says, beaming. “Marmoran miming is amazing.” 

He’s never seen it in person—most forms of Galran theater are more popular in the Valurian Quadrant, so having a trained Marmoran in this production on Earth is really exciting—but the recordings he’s gotten hold of are breathtaking. Because the performers are silent and masked, their body movements have to be exceptionally expressive, executing dramatic choreography that’s set entirely to instrumental music with heavy percussion. Shiro thinks of his favorite performance, a bookmarked video on his phone, and tries to picture Keith’s approach to that performance, how his passion would shine through even from behind the mask. 

“I really like it,” Keith says, smiling back. “My mom—she found me the year after we met and she taught a little troupe. It was easy to fall into it then.” 

“Your mom!” Shiro says. “Keith, that’s great.” 

Keith nods. “Yeah… Yeah, a lot’s happened since we saw each other last.” 

They’ve reached Keith’s bicycle now. It’s sleek, shiny, and red—perfect for Keith. Keith runs his hand over it absently but doesn’t tug up the helmet from where it swings off the handlebar. He leans against it, looking up at Shiro. He lingers. 

“What about you?” Keith asks. 

“Me?”

“What have you been up to?” Keith says, his eyes steady on Shiro’s face. 

“Oh,” Shiro says, stumped in the way he often is when tasked to talk about himself. He’d much rather listen to Keith talk, instead. “You know. A few things here and there.” 

Keith’s mouth twitches, like he’s torn between scoffing or laughing at the response. “How mysterious.” 

Shiro laughs. “I guess we have a lot to catch up on.”

Keith hums. “And a lot of lines to learn.” 

He has a point. There won’t be much space for idle talking during rehearsals. They have their timeline before the performance, after all. Shiro watches Keith fiddle with his helmet strap, making no move to tug it on or to otherwise broadcast his desire to leave. 

Shiro bites his lip and then says, “We could practice together. If you wanted.”

“We’re going to be practicing plenty,” Keith says, deadpan. “That’s the point.” 

“Maybe outside of rehearsals, I mean?” Shiro laughs. 

Keith doesn’t look uncomfortable by the suggestion, but he doesn’t seem ready to jump at the chance, either. Keith’s brow furrows in thought and Shiro tries not to wilt at the reaction. 

He fumbles to add, “Some of the choreography will get pretty complicated, I think I could use the pointers. That’s all.” 

Keith considers with a tilt of his head. “Well. I can help you with choreography.” 

“And I can help you run lines!” Shiro says, perking back up again. His heart is beating in his chest and he feels a little pathetic for it. “It’s important for us to build up the chemistry between our characters.” 

“Well, sure,” Keith says, looking a little perplexed. “That’s acting.” He laughs, though, before Shiro can cringe. “But, yeah, that could be good.” 

“Plus, it’d be good to learn from one another!” 

“Shiro,” Keith says, laughing again. “I know. I already agreed… you don’t have to sell me on hanging out with you.” 

Shiro clamps his mouth shut, swallowing back his other arguments for why they should practice together. “Oh… Oh! Great!” 

He beams, feeling flushed and excited. After a moment of contemplation, Keith smiles back with a soft chuckle. He tucks a piece of hair behind his ear, his smile gentle at the edges. He’s so pretty, Shiro thinks, a stupid, absurd thought that pops into his mind. Keith is so pretty. He marvels at how he never really noticed that before. 

“In the meantime,” Keith says. “Want to get coffee or something?” 

“Oh…” Shiro says. “I can’t do that kind of caffeine at this hour.”

Keith shrugs. “What about boba?”

“I… uh, I really just drink hot water.” Shiro huffs a laugh at himself. “Call me an old man.”

Keith coughs. “Never mind. I just thought it would be nice to catch up.”

Shiro blushes, feeling foolish, but covers it with a quick laugh. “No! Yeah, that’d be great. Wherever you want. I’m sure they can get me some hot water.” Keith peers at him skeptically, so Shiro smiles and tries not to look like he’s trying too hard. “You can tell me all about your mom.” 

“What if I want to hear about your mom instead?” Keith says. “I still remember all those care packages she sent you at camp—like she thought you were going to starve on cafeteria food.” 

Shiro barks a shocked laugh. He hasn’t thought about those summer camp letters in a long time. “She really hasn’t changed much, I think.” 

“I can guess,” Keith says, unlocking his bike. “You Shiroganes are stubborn but sweet, from what I remember.” He pauses then, looking Shiro over. “You got a ride?” 

Shiro startles and moves to his own bike, picking up his helmet and jamming it over his head to hide his blushing ears. He hops up onto his saddle and nods to Keith. “Lead the way.” 

Keith flicks the little bell on his handlebars, and with a cheerful chime, they pedal off towards the boba shop. 

🎶

“I haven’t had to learn lines in ages,” Keith mutters as he stares down at the script. 

His character isn’t supposed to be anxious in the scene they’re running through, but his pacing speaks to nervousness. He travels the short length of the studio’s back room, back and forth, swinging like a pendulum. They’re running lines together while Allura works with actors for a scene neither of them are in. They’re scheduled to get on stage in a few hours. 

“You don’t count opera?” 

“Lyrics, sure, that’s different,” Keith says in a mumble, his ears pink. “Talking is so awkward, Like, _If it wasn’t for you, my life would have been a lot different._ ” He pauses, his ears turning pinker. “That’s just… that’s so intense! How do you make it not sound super awkward?” 

“Sounded pretty convincing to me,” Shiro says, assuring. “Anyways, that’s what practice is for! We have time.” 

Keith grunts. He flips through a page of the script, his brow furrowing. Shiro can sympathize with the need for perfection. Keith’s mastered that physicality of space, his training shining through, but every stumble over a line of dialogue speaks to his lack of confidence in the material. 

“I just don’t want to get it wrong,” Keith says a few minutes later when he’s still agonizing over the same page of the script. “Galran theater will just improvise if we miss a step or the audience wants something different. You’re supposed to do that.” 

“Nobody’s going to boo you if you say one word wrong, Keith,” Shiro says. “They won’t even notice. Besides, improvisation is part of all theater. At least you know how to adapt to something like that.”

“I guess that’s true,” Keith says. 

“With so much experience with Galran styles, I bet you’re really good at improv.” Shiro grins. “Even before, you were always really creative and good at thinking on your feet.” 

Keith shrugs but Shiro sees him fighting back a smile at the praise. “With the Marmora, you always have to think on your feet. Or off them.” 

“That’s something I’d like to get better at,” Shiro admits.

Keith raises an eyebrow and pushes up his sleeves. “We could practice. Here, if I do this—” He grabs Shiro, then, easy and sure as he slinks his arm around Shiro’s waist and tugs. “What will you do?” 

Go breathless, apparently. Shiro stares down at Keith as he turns them in a slow half-circle. They’re so close, and they're _touching_. Shiro rests a hand on Keith’s shoulder to steady himself. He responds to the movement, turning smoothly with Keith and then around him, the two of them flowing together like water. 

Keith laughs. “Yeah, like that.” 

“Okay,” Shiro says, holding tight to Keith. “So what next?” 

“So, you do something,” Keith says. “Something I wouldn’t expect.” 

Shiro feels heat rise on his cheeks. He untangles himself from Keith’s hold, takes a step, and hops up onto one of the long knee-high platforms that runs along the side of the studio, used for Balmeran acrobatics. He kicks his leg up and strikes a pose. 

Instead of laughing at him, as he worries Keith might, Keith is right there with him. He leaps onto the platform opposite Shiro and mimics his pose. He dips his leg in front of him, nearly sliding into a split. Instead of holding the position, Keith darts up again and Shiro catches him, the two of them moving fluidly together down the platform. 

“This is what you’re supposed to do?” Shiro asks.

“If you mess a step, yeah. Just do something, and your partner will follow.” Keith spins and Shiro parrots him, leaping up and trusting Keith to catch him so they can twirl together. 

It feels electric, to move with Keith like this. Where one of them shifts, the other follows. It’s instinctive and anticipatory at once. Shiro’s aware of all the ways Keith touches him, his hands on his, in the well of his elbows, across his shoulders. They span the full length of the studio, following and meeting one another. 

“So,” Shiro says when Keith kicks up and he catches his ankle, “you just have to do the same with words.” 

“Dialogue equivalent of a spin?” Keith asks as he lets Shiro swing him off the bench, planting his feet on the ground and yanking Shiro forward, catching him in turn. Warmth sparks up Shiro’s spine at the feeling of Keith’s hands settled at his hips. 

“Basically,” Shiro says. “If you know your character and you’re embodying your character, it’s okay to just go with it, at least with this Altean kind of musical. You know what he’s feeling and you just have to express it. Your partner will follow your lead.” 

Keith blinks at him, his hands ghosting across Shiro’s hips as he pulls his hands back, letting them hang at his side. 

“So,” Shiro says. “Akira, you look great today.” 

Keith blinks and then snorts. “Shiro, what the hell?” 

“Go with it!” 

Keith looks like he wants to laugh, but he schools his expression into something more neutral and says, “You look great today, too, Jiro.” 

“And?” Shiro prompts.

“And what?” 

“Give me something else to work with, too. ‘Yes, and’ me, Keith.” 

Keith’s gone a bit rigid again, lips thinning in thought. It’s true that the words don’t flow quite as easily as Keith’s actions, the easy way they moved together down the platform. 

Shiro moves his arm in a slow arc and, instinctively, Keith mimics him. Then he flourishes his hand. Shiro gestures with him. 

“Oh,” Keith says as the connection hits. He steps closer, his hand ghosting across Shiro’s as Shiro steps with him. “Right. You look great today, too, _and_ I haven’t forgotten what you told me.” 

Shiro nods his approval before stepping off the bench, making the motion dignified. “That’s right. I haven’t forgotten, either. That moment on Altea.” 

Keith’s mouth quirks at the corner. “That moment in Altea when we…” He jumps and Shiro catches him. “Stole all those juice boxes.” 

“ _What_?” Shiro asks, unable to fight back the laugh that bursts out of him. His hands flex on Keith’s waist, holding him up so his toes skim the bench. 

“Is that not improv?” Keith asks and laughs, too. He braces his hands on Shiro’s shoulders, leaning his full weight against him. 

“We stole all those juice boxes and blamed it on… uh,” Shiro says, distracted as he lowers Keith to stand on the floor. 

“The mice,” Keith says solemnly. “We blamed it on the mice. We have to take this secret to the grave, Shiro.” 

It’s not quite where he expected this impromptu lesson to go, but that’s maybe the point. Keith looks amused, at least, less tense, so Shiro’s going to count that as a win. 

“You’re so bad, Akira,” Shiro teases. “A terrible influence.” 

“If I’m terrible, what are you?” Keith says, firing the words back. “I don’t even like juice boxes.” 

“Deepest apologies,” Shiro says with gravity and a dip of his head that Keith mimics. “What are you going to do with me?” 

Keith tugs Shiro against his side and leans into a side lunge, bracing Shiro’s weight against his. He looks at Shiro through the mirror opposite them. They look good together, making Shiro go breathless again. He shouldn’t feel this way when they’re apparently talking about juice boxes, and yet here they are. 

“Guess I’m going to have to help you change your ways,” Keith says. He grins. “I can’t give up on you, after all.”

Shiro laughs, although it sounds a little wheezy to his own ears. “Yeah. I guess you can’t.” 

“I won’t,” Keith swears. He holds, letting that moment hang, and Shiro’s heart pounds. 

Keith rights Shiro back to standing, patting him on the arm. The moment holds and then it passes. 

“I think I get the idea of it,” Keith says with a thoughtful hum, hands on his hips. “I should probably keep practicing, though.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Shiro says.

Allura pokes her head in, then, spotting them across the room. “We’re ready for you two now. We’re going into act two, scene one.” 

“On our way,” Shiro says, seizing up their discarded scripts and handing Keith’s back to him. He winks, smiling. “I think we’ve got plenty of warm-up time.” 

Keith laughs, looking away and smiling as he flips through the pages of his script to act two. 

🎶

Spending time together becomes a regular thing. They go to rehearsal, practice together in a side room when they’re not with the main group, then more often than not get boba once they’re wrapped up for the day. Keith wrinkles his nose any time Shiro orders just hot water, but otherwise it’s an easy routine. 

On their days off or in the mornings before practice, they’ll meet up to run lines together. It’s not strictly necessary, and Allura’s scheduled them plenty of time in the back room to run lines while she’s working with other actors on stage, but Shiro thinks it gives Keith a little more confidence before heading into rehearsal. 

Theater life is chaotic to say the least, but the routine gives Shiro some semblance of peace. Keith is centering, like the spotlight on a dark stage. Shiro loves how easily they fall back into their friendship, like no time has passed at all. 

And Keith’s an inspiration. His acting is like a wildfire, fierce and passionate, and so expressive. He’s still working on the fluidity of his lines, but so often, even in a side studio with white walls and fluorescent lights, Keith can take Shiro’s breath away. Shiro could watch him for hours and never stop being enthralled.

A few weekends in, when they have the morning off, Shiro brings Keith to the park where they’ll have their performance mid-summer. The open amphitheater is still getting spruced up for the festival and they aren’t scheduled to start rehearsals on it for several weeks yet, but the open, grassy knolls are a great spot for Keith to walk his dog and begin training him for his role, too. 

Because of course Keith has a massive, honest-to-god space wolf. Why wouldn’t he? 

Kosmo takes to training with as much enthusiasm as can be expected, but it’s hard to pass up on his unique teleportation skills for staging effects. 

“Still,” Keith tells Shiro in a conspiratory whisper, “he doesn’t even play fetch… I won’t be surprised if on opening night he hops off the stage and makes a run for it.” 

It makes Shiro laugh as he sets down their backpacks. He picks up and throws a stick, but Kosmo just looks at him with utter perplexity. “Well, if not fetch,” Shiro says, hands on his hips, “at least he can take direction, right? It’s just a matter of teaching when and where.” 

“He goes where he wants,” Keith says with the deepest gravity. 

He scrubs his hands through Kosmo’s fur, his smile gentle and betraying his lack of frustration with Kosmo’s work ethic. He looks sweet like that, the sun in his hair, his arms bare in his tank top as he basks in the warm day. 

“Is he nervous for his first performance?” Shiro asks and grins when Keith casts him a look. Keith doesn’t say anything so Shiro says, “I’m a bit nervous about it.” 

Keith looks really confused now. “You?” 

Shiro shrugs. Sure, he’s been in _Hamilton_ and _Hadestown_ , two plays he loves and is honored to have been a part of, but those were firmly rooted in Earth theater unlike the intergalactic influences in _Voltron_ , and he played minor characters, not the hero who keeps dying and coming back to life.

“This is my first starring role,” Shiro says. “Never had solos like this before. I think it’s natural to get nervous, right?” 

Keith kicks at a pebble. Kosmo skitters after it, sniffing the ground and flicking his tail, investigating the movement. 

He looks at Keith instead to find Keith studying him. “You’re you,” Keith says. “Your performances are always great. I’ve seen recordings. I know how hard you work.” 

Shiro smiles. “You too, Keith.” 

Keith shrugs off the compliment, hands in his pockets as he whistles to Kosmo. The space wolf perks up, ears twitching, and trots back to Keith. Kosmo isn’t fully untrained, but it’s clear that he’s nothing like an Earth dog or wolf, his eyes too keen. Keith does a series of hand gestures that mean little to Shiro but Kosmo studies with a tilt of his head and a flick of his tail. 

Shiro’s content to stay quiet, watching Keith run through the training regimen. While Keith focuses, Shiro just observes, his smile slight and his hands in his pockets. The joy at seeing Keith on that first day has simmered into a pleasant warmth whenever he gets to spend time with Keith. 

“I’m nervous, too,” Keith says finally. “But you already know that. The dialogue…” 

“You’re doing better with it every day,” Shiro’s quick to say. “Remember: you don’t have to be perfect.” 

“Easy for you to say,” Keith mutters, and then before Shiro can question him on the response, he trots off after Kosmo. They run through the grass together, Kosmo following Keith’s direction. 

Shiro watches them, smiling, and settles in the grass next to their stuff. He contemplates pulling out his script and memorizing as Keith works, but he’s already read through the tough parts twice this morning, and the idea of taking his eyes off Keith is an unpleasant one. 

More and more, he finds himself looking at Keith. It’s hard not to: Keith is magnetic. A star, Shiro thinks as he opens up his ukulele case and pulls out his instrument instead. Keith’s going to be a star someday, Shiro just knows it. 

He plucks softly at the ukulele, strings twanging under his metal fingers just more than they do against skin but less than with a pick as he tunes the C up. He laughs out in delight when Keith leaps across a wide patch of grass, intent on showing the exact spot he wants Kosmo to teleport to. Kosmo’s ears twitch back over towards Shiro as he starts to play absently. 

“That sounds nice,” Keith says a little while later, taking a break. Kosmo rolls around in the grass a short ways away and Keith’s smile is unbearably fond as he watches his space wolf take advantage of his rest. 

“Thanks,” Shiro says as Keith drops down to sit beside him, crossing his legs. He keeps playing, although he’s just strumming random chords. No set song, no set lyrics. 

Eventually, though, Shiro switches to one of their duets, “I’ll Never Give Up on You,” strumming absently. F, F minor, G-flat minor. Keith hums along, watching Kosmo grow tired of rolling and start exploring, sniffing and pawing at dandelions and buttercups poking up through the grass around them. 

It reminds Shiro of their days at camp together. They’d play together sometimes, in their cabin or on a grassy hill like this. It always felt easy. Peaceful. 

“It looks nice,” Keith says nodding towards the amphitheater. “Can’t believe we’ll be up there soon.” 

“Still a ways to go before then.” 

Keith sways with the music, humming out in thought, his eyes on the distant stage. And then he turns his head, watching Kosmo, his head tilted towards Shiro and his playing. He leans back on his hands, stretching out and looking effortlessly handsome in the morning sunshine. 

Shiro stumbles over a chord change and coughs, embarrassed, and laughs to cover it. “By the end of this, we’ll have plenty of songs to serenade with, huh?” 

Keith turns his head to blink at him. “Who would we serenade? These are songs about and at each other.” 

Shiro opens his mouth, ready to say something along those lines, and waffles. Keith just frowns at him, visibly confused. 

“Ha,” Shiro says when nothing else occurs to him and hangs his head. “Guess you’re right.” 

Kosmo finishes deeply analyzing a buttercup and teleports over to Keith’s side, shoving his nose into his hand until Keith pets him.

“Ready to keep going, buddy?” Keith asks him, already standing. “Let’s work on your dramatic entrance.” 

Shiro watches him go. He strums his ukulele and imagines what Keith would actually do if Shiro really did just start serenading him. He can’t imagine it’d go well. 

As they near the start of their rehearsal time, Shiro packs away his ukulele, picks up their bags, and wanders over towards Keith and Kosmo. 

“We better get going.” He nods back towards the front entrance to the park where they locked up their bikes. 

Keith nods, slinging his bag over his shoulder and curling his hand in the long scruff of Kosmo’s fur. “Alright. Come on, bud, time to see how you do on the stage.” He looks up at Shiro, amused. “Watch him be the biggest diva in the studio.” 

Shiro laughs as they start walking. “Now that I’d like to see.” 

🎶

Rehearsals start ramping up as the festival approaches, shifting Shiro’s time away from one-on-one practices with Keith. He misses the excuse to hang out all the time, but he loves this part, too, when the whole show starts coming together and the story emerges from the synthesis of movement and sound and energy. 

And he genuinely loves this production. _Voltron: The Musical!_ recounts an epic legend, an emotional battle of unlikely underdogs against an ancient empire—but above all, it’s just _fun_. Shiro finds himself humming “The Paladins’ Cheer” on his commute, at the gym, while he cooks, it’s so catchy, and the way it slows and darkens with each reprise is pure genius. The villains form an excellent trio; their number will surely be an audience favorite, though Shiro prefers the raw tenderness of Keith’s backstory solo. Even the intricately choreographed fight scenes, dance-like and set to percussion in the Marmoran style, are demanding but rewarding to perform, and Shiro knows that a dozen synchronized actors kicking and dodging in and out of each other’s space will look amazing. 

As much as he enjoys the spectacle, Shiro gets caught up in the tender moments of friendship and camaraderie, ever more so as he gets to know his cast members better. Hunk, Pidge, and Lance’s natural banter have inspired a few new quips, and Allura is incredible as both a lead actor and director. Above all, Shiro can feel how the friendship he’s been rebuilding with Keith bleeds through to their on-stage chemistry, how easily they move with each other, how naturally affection comes through his voice. 

“How many times are you gonna have to save me before this is over?” Jiro asks Akira, and Shiro practically melts every time the answer comes:

“As many times as it takes.” 

He _knows_ they’re scripted lines, but it’s impossible to resist the fantasy of Keith saying these things as himself. Impossible to resist the fantasy of Keith serenading him when they sing their duets, warm baritones tangling together. Shiro can’t deny that he’s crushing on a castmate, which everyone knows is a recipe for disaster, so he pours his feelings into his character instead. The relationship between Jiro and Akira feels like it’s skirting the boundaries between friendship, brotherhood, and romance… or maybe Shiro’s just projecting. 

Thank god they don’t have a stage kiss or anything; he doesn’t know how he’d be able to handle practicing _that_ over and over.

Keith makes it hard enough for Shiro to quiet his stupid heart but easy for him to share the stage, what with the way his voice lifts and falls and how he smiles just so. His singing could make the stars shine brighter and his spoken lines are delivered with ever more fluency and confidence. 

There’s just one thing that keeps giving them trouble: Keith, as Akira, keeps calling Shiro _Shiro_. He’s gotten better about it, but just two weeks out from opening night, Keith slips up during their most important and exposed fight scene, when Jiro is mind controlled and Akira is trying to save him and the rest of the entire universe, and he cries out, “Shiro, please! You’re my brother! I love you!”

“You gotta stop calling me Shiro,” Shiro admonishes gently during their next break. He doesn’t mention that it’s for his own sake as much as the show’s--how it feels to hear his name followed shortly by _I love you_. 

“I know, I know,” Keith groans. “Shiro just sounds right in my head. You know, with”—he waves his hand. Shiro has no idea how to interpret that gesture. 

“It’s an intense moment,” Shiro sympathizes, placing a hand on Keith’s shoulder. It’s something he does in the show, and now, apparently, in real life.

“No kidding,” Keith says, leaning into the touch. “Would you really be shouting something like that when you’re in a life or death battle?”

“I dunno,” Shiro says slowly, “I think it makes sense for him to say that. He’s desperate, and he’s been fighting, but that’s not enough. He needs to reach Shiro-— _Jiro_ —with his words. Tell him how he, uh, how he feels.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

He doesn’t sound convinced. Shiro tilts his head, curious now. “What would you do, then?”

Instead of answering, Keith blushes and looks away.

“I’d go along with it, whatever it is,” Shiro says. If Keith has a different vision for his character, Shiro is of course along for the ride. “Well, I’d try, anyway.”

“I know you would,” Keith says, glancing back at Shiro. “Anything for the show.”

He smiles and looks like he might say more, but then Allura calls everyone back from break with a clap of her hands. Shiro lets his hand slip off from Keith’s shoulder as they return to the stage. Shiro tries to focus on their rehearsal, but all Shiro can think about is the way Keith looked as he looked away and the pretty dusting of pink on his cheeks. 

🎶

Tech week, as always, is hell. 

On Monday, the sound crew discovers that their cues are misnumbered; on Tuesday, a box of foam bayards mysteriously goes missing. By Wednesday, half the cast has come down with a cold, and anyone not in an actively rehearsing scene is helping the frantic set designers finish painting the astral plane backdrop. Rehearsals go late into the night, leaving Shiro barely enough time and energy to shower and heat up one of his mom’s premade tech week meals before falling face-first into bed. 

Still, it’s not all stress and pandamonium. The amphitheater stage makes everything seem real in a way they can only pretend in a studio, and putting on the paladin armor for the first time is kind of magical. Seeing Keith in his red trimmed suit to match makes it feel more real, and leaves Shiro feeling strangely proud of Keith, like he’s stepping into his role as a leader. They don’t get to hang out much outside of rehearsal (not there’s much time at all outside of rehearsal), but Shiro makes up for it with a hand on Keith’s shoulder as they wait in the wings, and Keith brings Shiro hot water when his thermos runs out. It tastes vaguely burnt from the dispenser; Shiro likes to think that’s the flavor of friendship.

Pidge keeps a constant stream of memes running in the group chat, and Lance hypes the show and the whole festival on Twitter, giving a shout-out to each member of the cast and crew. Hunk magically finds the time to bake cookies decorated with each of their bayards. (“Frozen cookie dough,” he explains, then quickly amends, “frozen _homemade_ cookie dough.” His little sister did the decorations, and her Instagram takes off with them.) 

On Thursday, Kosmo zaps into existence with the box of bayards—the foam ones, not the cookie ones—clutched in his wolfy jaws. This makes him the prime suspect for the original theft, but seeing as he’s rectified the situation and he looks so cute, he only gets a few stern words as reprimand.

By the end of the week, everyone is both exhausted—physically, emotionally, spiritually—and buzzing with excitement. Shiro can feel it simmering, too, feels it in the slightly manic way he grins at Keith when their eyes meet on stage. When the spotlight follows him through their duet, highlighting them both, he feels like they’ve finally found their groove. 

“I think that went well,” Allura says after they wrap up the last dress rehearsal, and Shiro has to agree. He grins again at Keith to find him already looking, smiling over at Shiro, too. 

🎶

Shiro has never gotten used to the feeling of opening night, and he never wants to: the jitters, the adrenaline, the expectation, the possibility of magic. 

Shiro spends the day going through his usual pre-performance routine: meditate, steam face, brush teeth, pack food. He warms up his voice in the shower and absolutely does not allow himself to think of Keith doing the same. 

In the afternoon, Shiro gets a text from his mom with a picture of the amphitheatre, then a picture of her, his dad, and Keith’s mom, Krolia, sitting together on a big blanket set out on the lawn. _Best seat in the house,_ she texts proudly when Shiro marvels at how early they’ve set out to get a spot. _We’ve been here since noon._

It makes Shiro smile. He still gets nerves before a show, and today is no exception, but knowing that people are out there for him helps center him in the reality of it: they’re performing tonight. They’re creating art and it’s going to be great. 

The weather is cooperating, fortunately. It’s an idyllic summer day: clear sky, cooling breeze, sunny warmth radiating off ground. There’s a good turnout, too, the low murmurs of the audience mingling with the sounds of nature in the park when Shiro gets to the amphitheater early, approaching from the back so as not to draw attention from the people lounging out in the grass or to get roped into a conversation with well-meaning family when he needs to be focusing. He checks in with Allura, gets into costume, and squints at his reflection in the mirror as he applies his stage makeup, running through the trickier passages one more time. 

Keith grins at him from his own mirror and it makes Shiro’s face flush with warmth, well-hidden beneath the thick layer of foundation. Excitement erupts in his gut that he can’t blame on stage butterflies.

“Ready?” he asks Keith. His hand finds Keith’s shoulder, like second nature, squeezing once.

“Born ready,” Keith answers, and he sounds that same mix of nerves and excitement. 

The first act goes well, a dozen voices rising in harmony against the swell of the orchestra. Despite all of Keith’s anxiety about his lines, he sounds natural and poised. He’s not Keith on stage; he’s Akira, a determined and headstrong Paladin of Voltron. He glides through his first solo with ease and aplomb, and Shiro can sense the responding energy from the audience, the way Akira captures their attention and draws them into the story. 

The audience claps and cheers, whoops and hollers as the Paladins battle monsters and robots and their own inner beasts. They laugh riotously at Lance’s antics, and Shiro catches a few sobs when Allura loses her father again. A performance lives and dies with its audience, and they have a great one for their opening night. Shiro feels like he’s absorbing the energy of the hundreds of people watching him as he sings his heart out. 

The mood intensifies throughout the second act as the operatic politics unfold. Alliances and betrayals build and break until the lights dim dramatically to bleak spotlights as the scene transitions into Jiro and Akira’s duel. Everything’s going smoothly—they’re battling up and down the steps of the cloning facility, their wire suspensions allowing them to dive farther and jump higher, getting the gasps and shouts from the audience at the right moments. Desperation echoes in every thread of Keith’s voice as he cries, “You told me once you’d never give up on me!” 

As mind-controlled Jiro, Shiro’s feeling great. 

And then Shiro slips and loses his footing. He grunts as he goes down too hard, pressing a little too heavily against Keith. Keith wheezes beneath him when Shiro can’t roll away fast enough. It makes for an awkward pause in their fight where they both try to make sense of where their limbs are. Shiro’s face is pressed a little too tight against Keith’s neck and he _feels_ Keith swallow. 

Shiro lifts back up with a jerky retreat, schooling himself back into Jiro’s enraged expression, possessed and on the knife’s edge between redemption and loss.

He thinks, he hopes, it’s going to be okay. But then, rattled, Keith gapes up at him as they meet with a clash of their weapons, the angle slightly awkward thanks to Shiro’s mistake. 

“Shiro, please!” Keith cries out, heartbreaking as ever, but that’s not what he’s supposed to say—wrong name, wrong mark, both of them knocked off-center by Shiro’s earlier fall—and his expression goes wild, eyes wide and mouth parted.

And then he grabs Shiro, his fingers twisting tight in the front of Shiro’s costume. Shiro opens his mouth, ready to tackle the next line and pretend Keith hadn’t just said his name. 

But then Keith yanks him down and slams his mouth against Shiro’s. 

A beat passes in which Shiro has no idea why Keith’s done this. He stays frozen, eyes popped open wide. 

_Oh!_ Shiro thinks. _This is miming!_

Shiro kisses him back, throwing himself into it because it’s easy to improvise when you’re not really acting. He cups Keith’s cheek and presses in close, breathing out, and Keith responds in turn, moving easily as if they’d rehearsed this a hundred times.

How inspiring, Shiro thinks. Keith is so dedicated to his craft.

When they finally break away, he spots Allura in the wings, signaling them with restrained franticness to keep going. He stumbles to his feet, wrenching away from Keith’s grasp on his front. 

Something clicks into place after that. They know this fight, could dance through it in their sleep, but now it feels real, immediate, electric. Suddenly, Keith is fiercer than ever and more earnestly desperate, dodging and striking for his life, for Shiro’s, and Shiro feeds on his energy as he fights for his humanity. 

Keith swings his bayard into the stage release button on Shiro’s prosthesis, which was supposed to go just after the lines that never happened but Shiro can improvise—the way forward unfolds in his mind like it was planned this way all along. His arm clatters to the floor, and Shiro collapses after it, falling to his knees as the set shakes. Keith charges Shiro and they roll to the edge and off, hanging from the precipice. 

Shiro feels like he really is flying when they fall, Keith’s hand locked firmly around his.

When the lights dim for them to make their exit, the other Paladins hurrying on stage for the next scene, Keith’s expression still carries that intensity. Shiro can’t read what it is, how he feels about what just happened. 

“Are you okay?” Shiro whispers. 

“I’m okay,” Keith says, also quiet. 

They’re too close together, navigating the dark as cymbals clash in the orchestra pit and Allura’s voice rings out with a cry for victory, the other Paladins joining in. Shiro rests his hand on Keith’s arm.

“I fucked up,” Keith says, expression cracking. “I’m sorry. I did exactly what I wasn’t supposed to—” 

“Keith, it’s fine. You improvised!” Shiro smiles even as his heart feels all shriveled up in his chest, knowing what it’s like to kiss Keith, imagining what it might be like to kiss him for real. 

Keith shakes his head, looking rattled. “At least you went along with it. You, uh, really got the hang of this miming.” 

Shiro thinks of their kiss. No, their characters kissing. Why wouldn’t a kiss rattle Jiro from his mind control? The scene came together in the end, he thinks, with greater emotional impact than it would have otherwise. 

“Miming,” Shiro agrees faintly. “Right.” 

“Yeah, I mean, all the fight choreography that we had to change after—” Keith breaks off, waving his arm. 

Beneath the makeup, Shiro thinks, Keith must be blushing. He’s familiar with this expression, likes to think he’s gotten good at reading Keith. He’s embarrassed, sure, and disappointed in himself. But really, all Shiro can feel is pride.

“After you kissed me,” Shiro fills in. “I thought that was brilliant, too. It really took the scene to the next level. Didn’t you feel it?”

Keith doesn’t look convinced. If anything, he looks more miserable now. Shiro despairs, hating to think he’s making it worse. He touches Keith’s shoulder, his touch gentle, and feels Keith relax just marginally. 

“What made you think of it?” Shiro asks. “It works for Akira.” 

Keith stares at him, mouth open and then shutting again. He looks away, his brow furrowing. He fidgets, too, fingers curling and uncurling at his sides. 

“... I just thought of it,” Keith says. “It’s—nothing to do with Akira.” 

Silence falls between them as the orchestra crescendos. Shiro stares at Keith, sure he’s misheard, sure that he’s misinterpreting the words. Keith stares up at him, looking terrified. 

“You—” 

“I just… thought to do it. With you,” Keith says. He cringes. “It’s so unprofessional.” 

“… It really isn’t just miming?” 

“Why would kissing be part of miming? We wear masks.” Keith groans and shakes his head. “And that’s not the point! Shiro, I kissed you!” 

Shiro feels like the floor’s fallen out from under him. “You wanted to kiss me.” 

“Yes,” Keith says, falling back into a legitimate whisper now. The music is still blaring beyond the curtains, but his sensibility as an actor is overriding their whisper-conversation. 

Whisper- _confession_ Shiro realizes with widening eyes. 

“Keith!” 

“Yeah,” Keith says, biting his lip. It’s distracting. He looks a little wild still, like he’s about to run out on stage even though their cue’s still not for a while. 

“I—I kissed back,” Shiro says. 

“To save the scene. You thought it was miming.”

Shiro shakes his head. “No. No, I just—I. Yeah.” 

“Oh.”

They stare at each other. And then Keith’s expression bursts into a grin, like the very action startles him. 

“Oh!” he says again, understanding dawning. 

Shiro feels similarly giddy. He nods. “Yeah—yeah, oh.” Feeling bold, he squeezes Keith’s shoulder and steps closer. “Maybe I should try something new.” 

“What do you mean—” Keith begins, cutting off with a small breath of surprise when Shiro cups the back of Keith’s neck, weighted and purposeful. He blinks at Shiro and then doesn’t even give Shiro the chance to reel him in before he lurches forward and kisses him. 

It’s earnest and passionate, just like the one on stage, and Shiro realizes just how real it was, how real this one is. 

They stumble a little, the music sweeping and victorious around them. Shiro’s heel hits a large box of props and, together, they fall into it. Shiro’s gasp of shock is drowned out by the booming of drums.

Keith lands on him hard, nearly kneeing him somewhere unpleasant, props falling all around them. Shiro definitely sits on a rock and a spare foam bayard. Keith’s entire front is covered in a gauzy shall and there are cat ears on his head. Not quite _on_ on but tangled up in his hair. 

Keith doesn’t seem too concerned. As soon as he confirms Shrio’s not hurt, he’s kissing him again insistently. 

“We’re gonna need to konmari all of this when we’re done,” Shiro mumbles into the kiss. Keith bites his lip rather than laugh and kisses him harder. 

“Don’t try to be funny when you’re kissing me,” he says and Shiro’s more than happy to focus on kissing Keith instead. 

He could kiss Keith for ages. But he’s not going to let their opening night bomb because he couldn’t focus. 

He kisses Keith one last time, and then hauls him from the box of props. They hurry towards the wings, adjusting their costumes and listening for their cue. It’s too dark and narrow for Shiro to really assess, so he doesn’t realize that Keith’s still wearing the cat ears until they walk out on stage. 

Shiro grins and follows after him, launching into the final duet with Akira, a reprise of _I’ll Never Give Up on You._

The end of the play goes off without a hitch, the Paladin kickline flawless and coordinated perfectly through the last triumphant scene, a celebratory Altean swing dance number. 

The applause—and standing ovation—from the audience is a swelling sound in the warm summer night, fueling them all on as they come out for their curtain call. First the chorus and extras, second the tertiary characters, then to the secondary characters, and then the main characters. Shiro and Keith come out last, Shiro from stage left and Keith from stage right, meeting in the middle.

The applause swells louder and Shiro grips Keith’s hand, lifting it up over their heads in a flourish before they both duck into their bows. Shiro can’t stop smiling, hasn’t stopped since the kiss backstage. 

As far as opening nights go, this has been amazing, easily the best of Shiro’s career. 

It feels good. It feels amazing. It’s moments like these that remind Shiro why he loves acting, loves theater, and it feels all the better when Keith squeezes his hand as the other actors move down from upstage and line up with Keith and Shiro for the final bow. They gesture to the orchestra to direct the applause, then up to the tech team. Finally, the actors nudge Allura front and center, gesturing to her so she can lap up her applause as director. 

Keith leans against Shiro’s side, bright-eyed and overwhelmed. Shiro kind of wants to kiss him again, but he restrains himself. There’ll be time for that yet. 

They take one last bow together as a cast as the curtain falls, the audience still cheering for a few moments even once they’re gone from sight.

**Author's Note:**

> bless whoever put the ukelele chords for “i will never give up on you” on chordify (no idea if they’re accurate or not)
> 
> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. These authors invites and appreciates responses, including:
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